Behavior Modification: Chapter XXXVII

Happy Valentine's Day!

I see that I haven't been here for a while.  It isn't that there are no adventures with the little ones; it is that once I try to take notes to remember the adventures the way I used to, my hands don't work.  Don't you just hate it when your hands don't work?  It's almost worse than being body-slammed by a low-land gorilla.

I do have one good memory from the snowfall.  I was standing at the bedroom window, looking out, of course, when I saw the dogs playing in the new snow, as if they truly knew what snow was for.

Schuster was inside a fenced-off area just to the left of the window; he is the only dog small enough to get inside the fence.  He would run through the snow from one end of the fence to the other, though the snow made it difficult for him and slowed him down.  Frollie was on the other side of the fence keeping pace with him and barking at him.  They were having a great time, running through the snow and barking.  

Every once in a while, Schuster would come out from behind the fence and try to run through the garden with Frollie hot on his tail, to speak accurately.  Every time she caught him she would roll him in the snow.  He'd get up, shake it off, and start running again, especially running under bushes where Frollie was too big to go.  When he got tired of being bitten and rolled, he would go through the fence and that game would start again until they were both worn out.

Simon stayed in the house under a blanket on the sofa; Dexter stood watching Schuster and Frollie and barking at them, but he didn't join the chase.  

The snow game looked so delightful that I wished I could join them.  It reminded me of childhood games in the deep winter snows of northern Ohio.  Our version of the chase game was "Fox and Geese,"  with trails stamped out in our side yard; the Fox of course chased the Geese until he tagged one.  The only rule was that you had to stay in the marked out trails.  Whoever got tagged became the new fox.  I was always a clever goose, so to speak, and hardly ever got tagged.  At least that is how I remember it.

Behavior Modification: Chapter XXV

Retirement means having time not to do those things that I do not want to do, and feeling good about not doing them.  

Frollie has "turned on" Schuster to the joys of watching TV.  Last night NBC news was doing a report on the love lives of bull elks (the creatures were big and brown and wearing antlers) in a national park about to be closed.  Frollie heard their loud, odd mating calls, turned to the TV and barked at them.  Schuster followed Frollie, saw and heard the creatures, and went wild.  He barked, he jumped at the screen, which is fortunately out of his reach, he barked some more to our amusement.  If we weren't technologically challenged, we would have a video of his behavior, for he not only charged the TV, but when the report was finished and the animals disappeared, he quickly went behind the TV looking to see where they had gone.  

Behavior Modification XXIV

Real behavior modification: Mary bought a red, long-haired dachshund, whom we (I) have named Schuster, or Schuey (Shoey).  We found the seller in the Cracker Barrel parking lot.  There it is, a new addition to the Little Master's household.  He is not troubled, for now we are Simon and Schuster, the red and the black.

In fact, the only troubled (I watch "Haven" on Friday nights) creature in our house is Frollie who growls at Schuster every time he passes by.  And then there is Schuster who came into the house troubled.  He is eight months old and apparently has known only his litter mates up until we bought him and, according to our vet, created a separation anxiety.  The little guy won't let us pick him up.  He's okay when he's in our arms (all nine and a half pounds of him), but before that happens he runs.  He'll come close but he doesn't want anything to do with being picked up.  He'll sleep between us on the bed, but before we can hold him, we have to catch him.  I can scarcely walk on my own let alone catch a small (did I say nine pounds and a half?) red streak flashing by my feet.  "Schuey, oops, damn!  Missed him again!")  I tried getting down on the floor to see if I could entice him to come with a tidbit.  He grabbed the tidbit and ran.  I think I heard him giggle.  Then, of course, I spent the next half hour trying to get up off the floor.

At this juncture, Schuster is the canine version of those people who think everything going on around them is about them.  Walk into the room where he is lying down and off he goes, even if you just want to sit down too.  Go to the kitchen for a drink of Ocean Spray Cran-Grape and he dashes into the bedroom. In fact if someone just looks at him, he runs.  And so on.  (And no, Ocean Spray is not paying me.)

The oddity is that he has, of course, bonded with the most neurotic dog in the house, Dexter the Beagle.  It occurs to me that Dexter will just reinforce Schuey's neurotic tendencies.  Dexter is afraid of almost any man who comes to the house, as well of many other things.  It took him two years to get over his fear of me.  Fortunately he did get over it, perhaps because I am the person who feeds him Alpo every day.  Dexter's response to Schuey is mostly toleration.  Schuey thinks Dexter's food bowl is also his, apparently, for when Dexter gets his bowl of food, Schuey rushes in and sticks his nose in the bowl too, though of course we don't let him do that.  Dexter, the gentle giant, just backs away as if that's simply the way the universe works: the little dog eats the big dog's food.  Frollie would have snapped his ear off, and I am not sure what Simon would do since his food never lasts long enough for anyone to find out, but Simon isn't food aggressive.

Interestingly, Simon was asleep on the sofa two nights ago when Schuey, who was up there with Mary, crawled over and fell asleep stretched out next to him, the black and the red, Simon and Schuster, too cute.  Apparently Simon hadn't known that Schuey was asleep next to him for most of the evening, for suddenly he woke up, saw Schuster beside him and jumped down to the floor as quickly as he could move, which isn't all that quickly anymore.  I keep cutting back on his food, but he is still a slightly tubby little dachshund, and maybe Simon is just a tad troubled by the new addition, though he doesn't growl at him.  

Behavior Modification: Chapter Ten

Simon, the complete dachshund, grabbed the rope lying on the floor, Frollie’s rope (all dog toys are Frollie’s toys), and started shaking it vigorously, banging it repeatedly on the floor, all the while growling ferociously and turning circles.  I do not know why he turns circles. 

Frollie sat and watched.  She pretended not to be concerned.  Frollie, the complete Jack Russell terrier, looked away.  Simon continued banging the dog-rope on the floor.

Finally, either tiring of dishing out a terrific thrashing to the rope or perhaps considering the rope dead, Simon dropped it on the floor and looked away. 

Silently and stealthily, Frollie crossed the room, picked up the rope, and carried it back to where she had been sitting.  She dropped it in front of her and looked away. 

Simon, seemingly uninterested in the fate of the rope, flopped onto his side, as if waiting for a belly rub. What could I do?  He’s such a beautiful little guy, and he had succeeded in taking Frollie’s toy for a while. I went over, got down on my knees, and rubbed his belly.

Behavior Modification: Chapter Nine

As I was putting my mostly empty oatmeal bowl on the floor this morning, I saw that there was a way in which Simon fulfills his role as "servant."  Simon helps with the dishes, as do his two house mates, Frollie and Dexter.  Of course.  We finish the meal, put the bowl or plate on the floor, and Simon eagerly licks it clean.  He is the Servant.  He helps with the dishes.  He is very thorough.  He does not discriminate.  He will clean up anything, well, anything except Pace picante sauce, or any hot sauce.  But never mind, Frollie will lick those clean too.    In fact sometimes the dishes are so clean we just put them back on the shelf.

Frollie and Simon

              #426

               Frollie

She watches every move I make

Where Simon is concerned,

Then summons up her saddest look

As if she's just been spurned.

Further Adventures of Dexter and Frollie...

            #392

            Outing

Frollie in the cornfield,

Rabbits on the run;

Dexter right behind her,

Happy as a nun

Celebrating Easter

For a joy hard won.

Thunderstorm over Berea.

               #301

               Terror

The storm was fiercely raging,

The lightning bright and near;

The consequence for all of us

Was paralyzing fear:

Frollie shook and trembled,

Dexter did the same,

Simon crawled into my lap

While I forgot my name.

             Who?

Pet Adventures: Our Dog, Frollie

                #260

           Where They Go

The squirrel raced down the boardwalk,

Our dog hot on its tail;

The squirrel leaped into the crabapple tree,

Thus the run to "No Avail."

Each day the race plays several times;

Each time the squirrels escape.

Just once I'd like to see our dog

Grab the squirrel by its scruffy brown nape!

A dog's life...

            #152

       Frollie at Play

Frollie entertains herself,

Hiding her tennis ball

Under a blanket or pillow

Or rolling it fast down the hall.

Frollie is a JRT,

Always on the move,

Looking for a playmate,

Looking for her groove.

Nature's abundance...

          #149

           Frollie

The curve of her hip is exquisite,

Flesh and blood and bone:

Each thoughtless arc connecting

Each curve that stands alone.

Simple pleasures, simple gifts...

             #142

           The Nap

The best thing in the whole wide world

Is lying all snug on the bed

With Simon tucked tightly under my arm

And Frollie wrapped round my head.